


Midnight Injuries

by Erika_I_Prescott



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erika_I_Prescott/pseuds/Erika_I_Prescott
Summary: Ethan Hunt's chest is bleeding badly from a bullet wound. He then goes to the apartment of an old friend in London for medical treatment.





	Midnight Injuries

A loud pounding on her door startled Ilsa who had  _ just _ sat back down on the couch. Instinctively, she grabbed a gun that was in a locked drawer in the coffee table in front of the couch.

The pounding came again but no voice came after asking to come in.

She loaded the gun and kept it pointed to the floor slowly creeping to the door.

More pounding came.

Ilsa let her hand find the knob then slowly started to turn in. She pointed the gun into the door frame, letting the person know she was armed.

The man standing out front was leaning over the railing gripping his side as if it was injured. He had a strong figure and dark hair. The man wasn’t tall. If Ilsa had to guess he was 5’8” or 5’7”.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Ilsa said strongly.

The man turned around.

Ethan Hunt stood opposite her with a gash in his forehead and his shirt ripped open and his chest bleeding from what Ilsa assumed was a bullet wound. 

“What the f-” Ilsa unloaded the gun and put the gun on her waist on the small of her back.

“Ilsa,” Ethan breathed. He winced from just her name. The gash was bleeding badly, and the blood from the bullet wound was seeping down to his belt.

Ilsa threw open the door and closed the small gap between them. She wrapped her arm around his back and helped him inside.

“Come inside. Is there anything else besides your chest and your forehead?” She asked quickly. 

“No,” He spoke faintly. There was compressed pain in his voice like he was trying to keep it down. 

Ilsa brought him through the door and onto her couch. Ethan let his head fall back on the short couch. His face was white, only teetered in and out of consciousness. He seemed to be glad to have somewhere to rest. 

“Ethan, hey. Why aren’t you at a hospital right now.” She asked him, pulling his head to her shoulder taking off his suit jacket.

“I can’t go there,” He said faintly into her shoulder.

“Are you being followed?” Ilsa asked after she threw the jacket on the floor.

“I think,” he said quietly. His head hit her shoulder hard.

“Ethan?” she said frantically, “Ethan?!”

“What the fuck- who is that- Is he okay?” The other man in her apartment walked out of the bathroom. 

“He’s an old friend. Vince, he’s really hurt, but he can’t go to the hospital. He is being followed.” Ilsa said standing up fast and walking past the man into the bathroom.

“What’s wrong with him?” He said walking over to Ethan slumped on the couch knocked out cold.

“There is a bullet in his chest,” she said, rummaging around under the sink for something.

Vince started to take off Ethan’s shirt, looking for any more injuries he couldn’t see.

“I think it’s just the chest and the forehead. He seems to be fine beyond that.” He moved Ethan with great caution, knowing that the bullet could rupture something in him. His chest was warm and glistening in the light, but otherwise unharmed on the outside. It was the bullet that was causing the most problems for them right then. 

Ilsa came back into the living room with a pile of towels and a large black medical bag.

“Should I call 999 and just have them stay here? Not going anywhere?” He asked, taking the towels from her and putting them under Ethan.

“No, call your med bay,” Ilsa said sitting next to Ethan getting out gauze out of the bag.

“Right,” he stood up and pulled out his phone.

“Hey, Ethan,” she cleaned up the wound on his chest, “This is going to hurt like hell, hon,” Using a bottle of wound cleaning alcohol, she poured it over the wound.

He started to make a noise. A groan in pain that pulled him back to consciousness.

Ethan’s eyes shot open the groan grew as he woke up. He instinctively brought his hand to the wound, trying to make it feel better by holding on to it. Ilsa grabbed his hand, holding it away from the wound.

“Hunt, don’t touch it.” She said quickly, looking into his eyes. His jaw tightened, trying to bear the sting of the cleaning fluid. “Think of something else. Don’t focus on it. I know it hurts, baby. But, I have to clean the wound.”

He nodded quickly, still writhing in pain.   
“Tell me where you have been for 7 months, Ethan.” She grabbed more gauze and applied it to his chest. Ethan’s body started to relax. The pain from the fluid washed away and now it was just the bullet that was lodged into his ribcage. Only a trickle of blood came from the wound now, something much more manageable to Ilsa who hadn’t had extensive medical training. 

“I didn’t’-” Ethan winced again, trying to grab his side, forcing Ilsa to grab it.

“Leave your hand down and stop trying to grab your side. You are not helping.” She scolded him. The wound was looking better, but she also knew it did not feel better for him. In her med bag, she didn’t have any numbing medicine, so he just had to sit and suffer.

“Why haven’t I seen you in 7 months, Ethan?” she asked again.

“I wasn’t allowed to find you. My new boss-” He winced again, as Ilsa got closer to the bullet hole.

“Tell me, Ethan.” She tried to get him to focus on anything else. At that point, if she had a flashlight, she could see the bullet and just pull it out with tweezers. But, she had a sinking feeling Ethan might pass out from the pain it would give him to do that. 

“Ils, there’s a doctor on their way over, they’ll be here in 10,” Vince interrupted her.

“Good, come clean up and wrap his head,” she instructed. Vince did as she said, working quickly, he sat on the other side of Ethan and grabbed some gauze from the bag.

“I tried. I found your information, but my boss wouldn’t let me go.”

Ilsa wanted to slap him. That was a shitty answer and he knew it. It had been 7 whole fucking months since Kashmir. Once he healed, they parted ways. No real formal goodbye, no fanfare, no nothing. He just left. It had hurt Ilsa so much more than she thought it would.

“Vince, grab me a flashlight from the bag. It's small and grey.” He tossed the bloody gauze on a pile of bloody gauze from his chest on a black towel. Rummaging through the bag, he finally found the tiny little flashlight. Ilsa glanced over and nodded.

“Shine it on the bullet. I’m going to take it out.”

Ilsa could feel Ethan tense up. He was scared, and he had every right to be.

“Tweezers too, Vince,” she instructed. She knelt on the floor to get a better angle to see the bullet.

“Ils, here.”

She held out her hand and Vince dropped them in.

“Give me the flashlight,” She said, holding out the other hand.

Shining the light straight into the wound, a small glint of light the hit off the bullet.

“Ribs of steel, hon. The bullet isn’t far in. I’ll be fast, Ethan. Just in and out.” Ilsa said grabbing the alcohol and dousing the tweezers to clean them off.

“Hon?” Vince said just loudly for Ethan to snap his eyes open.

Ethan closed his eyes and tightened his fists getting ready for to Ilsa take the bullet out.

“Please go fast, Faust,” He said through gritted teeth. Vince narrowed his eyes and cocked his head.

_ Why does he know to call her Faust, _ Vince thought to himself.

Ilsa prepped Ethan by saying, “I’m going in on three.” She positioned her hand with the tweezers just outside of the hole.

“One” Ilsa gave the flashlight to Vince to hold with her other hand. Ethan shut his eyes tighter and looked up. He had no desire to watch her poke sharp tweezers into him. 

“Two.” Ilsa poked the tweezers into Ethan’s ribs. Ethan groaned loudly in pain. His entire body went rigid.

“Ethan! You’ve got to help me. Do not flex anything!”

The bullet attached to the tweezers, Ilsa pulled both out earning a loud, painful groan from him.

“God, I’m sorry, hun.” Ilsa dropped the bullet in her hand. Ethan sighed, his chest rising and falling, trying to calm down.

“A 9mm caliber bullet,” Ilsa turned around and set it on the table.

“Close range, most likely,” Vince said going back to tending to Ethan’s forehead.

“It was close range,” Ethan groaned, trying to recover from Ilsa stabbing him with tweezers.

“You didn’t get out of the business, did you?” Ilsa asked, offhand not exactly expecting a response.

“No. I didn’t and I don’t have a reason to,” Ethan winced again.

“Agent! You have plenty of fucking reasons to get out!” Ilsa yelled turning around to him.

Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly sitting up only to feel a wave of pain and sink back down into the couch. She still felt something for him. She couldn't deny that. In fact, she had a sinking feeling that he would come show up at an inopportune time such as now. She was pissed at him for leaving her with absolutely nothing. But, she also couldn’t deny that she was incredibly happy to see him.

“Why did you leave me for 7 months, Hunt?!” She yelled again. She thought, or at least made the conclusion that Ethan actually cared for her. He trusted her. And from a man like that, she had a feeling trust didn’t come often. So why on God’s great Earth did he just leave her in Kashmir with nothing more than just a nod? That, she wanted to know so desperately for the 7 whole months from when she saw him last.

“Work! Ilsa! A mission!” he yelled back.

Ilsa rolled her eyes.

“You are not a man to listen to the rules. You regularly disregard protocol or a plan for the sake of something else. Even if that thing is inconsequential. So why couldn’t you do that again?” she was way more mad than she would admit. 

“Ils, hon-” Ethan tried to explain. 

A knock came from the front door.

“The doctor,” Vince said quietly, gesturing for Ilsa to get the door.

She took a breath and nodded to Vince that was still tending to Ethan’s head wound.

Standing up she fixed her self up, straightening her sweatshirt, tightening her ponytail, and rubbing her hands on her face as if she was washing her face. Ilsa composed herself and pulled open the door and greeted the doctor.

A young Iranian woman wearing black scrubs and holding a black bag very similar to Ilsa’s and what the three assumed was an MI6 doctor in training. The assistant had on black scrubs as well and was holding two large black gun case looking boxes. The two surveyed Ilsa and Vincent then settled on Hunt who was struggling with the pain 

“Hello, I’m Azar. I’m the on-call doctor at MI6. What happened, sir?” Both made their way to either side of Ethan.

“GSW to the left rib cage and lacerations on my forehead,” Ethan said through gritted teeth.

“How did this happen?” Azar asked. The assistant handed a shot of clear liquid to her. She inserted the shot right near Ethan’s gunshot wound.

Ilsa sat back on the ground and let her hands fall to her face. It was around midnight and she was tried, but seeing Ethan hurt always wore her out fast.

Vince stood back from the doctors and focused his attention on Ilsa.

“Faust.”

She looked up to him with the light pulled out of her eyes and the fatigue set into her gorgeous ocean eyes. He motioned for her to follow him outside. She nodded, understanding that she owed him an explanation.

She followed him outside to the porch that had some of Ethan’s blood on it. 

“Okay." She agreed softly. 

It has been long enough without an explanation.

"What the hell is all of this? Who is that, what kind of relationship did you have with him and do you still have one?”

“His name is Ethan Hunt. He is an American CIA agent who I worked with twice.” She explained to a very on edge and frustrated MI6 agent.

“Seven months ago.”

Ilsa nodded, “And two years before that-” Ilsa stopped. Did she really want to tell a man she liked what she asked another man 2 years and seven months ago?

_ Yes. He deserves to know.  _

“Two years before that?” He urged on.

“I asked him to run away with me,” Ilsa said slowly.

Vincent turned around and sighed. Ilsa took a step towards him trying to repair a shattered relationship.

“Vince, baby,” she whispered.

“Ilsa, I-” He stopped. His voice broke on the second word. She stopped mid step. He was crying though he continued, “I know you are still in love with him.”

Ilsa took a step backward and let her eyes fall to her bare feet on the cold cement. 

He turned around. One single tear ran down his cheek. His eyes were the darkest he had ever seen them. The tear hit his 5-o'clock shadow and dissipated softly. 

“Am I wrong?” He mouthed. He couldn’t get it out. He was crying too hard. More tears started to follow the first.

She looked up at him and said nothing.

She knew in both her heart and her mind that he was correct. She still loved him. No matter the goodbye she got in Kashmere, she would always love that stupid agent. The one that she had saved more than four times from the two times they had been on missions together.

“Ilsa Faust, I love you, but if you have loved a man for two years and seven months? He  _ will _ win out over me. And I know we only have been together for three months, but I fell in love with your stupid beauty, strong independence, and undeniable intellect. I love you so much, but I can’t change that you love another man who I have never heard about. So the only thing for me to do now is to leave you.” Vince was sobbing now. His words were hard to understand through the voice cracks and the sniffing.

“Vincent, I’m so sorry. I-” She said softly with tears coming to her eyes. He was an incredibly sweet man, and it would hurt for her to watch him go. But the non-goodbye hurt more then she had ever felt. So much more than a three-month rebound relationship.

“Ils, that’s the man you are happy with. He’s the one you have loved for two years. I always felt that you were distant, but I never could put a finger on why, but now I get that the American had your heart and your thoughts.” He cried harder. Something that he was not ashamed of.

“Vincent, come here,” a single tear ran down her cheek too. She closed the gap between the two of them, giving him a long hug.

“I love you Ilsa Faust, but I don’t have your heart. Ethan does, and it's because I love you so much that I want you to be happy with the one that you care so much for that you waited for him for two years,” Vince whispered softly into Ilsa’s shoulder.

“Thank you so much. You are an amazing man, I hope for you to find an amazing man or woman that can love you for all that you are.” Ilsa gently pulled away and kissed his cheek before he let her go and started down the steps.

"Goodbye, Vincent," she said softly as he headed out to his car still crying.

Ilsa found the railing and caught herself.

Taking a second to breathe, she composed herself. Her tears started to dry.

She no doubt was sad, but she knew Vince had a point. And she also knew that she had never fallen out of love with Ethan.  So there she stood, trying to process what had just happened.  She knew she was never truly fell in love with Vince, and that hurt him, but not her.  She wasn't broken up about it. It hurt her more to see him sobbing on her front porch then the breakup. It was only for three months.

During those months, she was still looking for Ethan.

She still had contacts in MI6, and she had constantly running facial recognition at Heathrow airport. It had gotten a hit 4 months back and she spent a week looking for him but wasn't successful.

And now that stupid American shows up at her door with a bullet in his chest and a gash on his forehead. She hadn’t made the decision, it was made for her. But was it the right one?

Ilsa breathed in and out then wiped away any trace of tears and headed back into her apartment. The room was dark, the light had been low from when Ilsa and Vince were watching a movie. The smell of blood was faint, but so was the smell of alcohol. Ilsa made her way to the kitchen for a drink letting Ethan and the doctors be. She wasn’t going to discuss anything in depth with him when two MI6 people sat working on an American agent.

She grabbed her hydro flask from the fridge and downed what was left.

God she needed real food and more water. All she had to eat that day was a half of a ham sandwich at lunch.

“Ilsa,” Ethan called to her in a normal voice.

_ Apparently, he was doing better. _ Ilsa thought to herself, grabbing all she needed for a quick sandwich.

“Hmm?” She called back to him, not giving him more than an inch till she got a proper explanation out of  _ his  _ ass. Yes, she definitely loved Ethan, but that wasn't to say she couldn’t be mad at the handsome devil. 

“Where’s Vince?” He asked as she started to put the sandwich together.

“He left,” Ilsa said in a monotone voice.

_ He left me. _ She couldn’t help but think.

She could let Vince go, but it would take a couple of days.

“Are you and him-” He stopped the sentence, banking on that Ilsa would know what he was talking about.

“Later, Ethan,” she did not want to go into it right then.

He didn’t say anything after that. The doctors continued to work on him, wrapping his head in white gauzed and stapling up his bullet wound.

Ilsa took her sandwich to the small dining table and started to eat.

Her apartment was small. Like only three rooms small. The main room, which consisted of a dining room, which was only a small table with two chairs because that’s all that fit, then a kitchen with all the amenities packed into it as best they could with zero counter space, then a living room with a large TV mounted on the wall opposite a low-to-the-ground grey couch that Ethan was currently decorating red with his blood, then lastly was a small balcony that looked out over the building to a grey London skyline.

When you entered the apartment, the kitchen was to the right and the living space to the left, if you went straight, you walked through a door to the bedroom the size of the first room. It was small for a living space but large for a bedroom. It was large enough for a low to the ground king-sized bed, two black dressers, and an armoire that she hung up most of her old work clothes in. The bedroom had no closet, but it did have a bathroom attached to it. The bedroom was two thirds as big as the main room, the bathroom was a third of the bedroom with a small door separating the two. With a modern design, the bathroom had a shower with a rain shower head and a large sink.

MI6 never paid a lot. The tiny apartment was all she could afford. She had no idea how much the Americans paid Ethan, but she had a feeling the man laying on her couch was a  _ little _ more than well off. She didn’t have any real evidence to base the assumption on, but she figured if they gave the IMF anywhere close to what they gave the military, then that assumption would be correct.

The doctors seemed to finish their work. The assistant was working on cleaning up and putting everything away, including the gauze Ilsa and Vince had used before they came. Ilsa was grateful for their help, but she had to admit she was never super concerned about Ethan. If she remembered correctly, which she definitely did because she thought about it way more than she wanted to say, she had brought Ethan back to life after he drown in Casablanca. She knew that man could pull through a lot, that a bullet was just a minor setback.

The doctor’s assistant stood up and made her way to Ilsa who had moved to the kitchen and was cleaning up her dishes from her midnight meal.

“Ms. Faust, he is all taken care of. He will need a few days to recover, but he will make a full recovery,” She nodded with a happy smile. 

Ilsa nodded back to her smiling.

“Thank you for your help. Can he stay here or do you need to take him in and monitor him there?”

Azar joined the assistant and started to explain his condition, “He did well, and so did you guys cleaning the wound and taking out that bullet. He will be sore for a few weeks but we do not need to bring him in. His rib is cracked, so no sleeping on his chest,” She pointed and put on a fake stern-mom face. Ils cracked a small smile and put her hands up in surrender.

Azar went on, “He lost a lot of blood, and he is going to feel lousy for a while, but he’ll pull through. I am going to leave you with some meds for his pain. They should last for two weeks if his condition doesn’t improve, but if it does, then he won’t need many of these.” She pulled the bottle of painkillers from her pocket and handed them to Ilsa who took them and put them on the counter.

“I think he will make a fast recovery, he is a very healthy man who already started to look better as we fixed him up. The rib will heal within a month, but he’ll only feel it for a few weeks at most,” Azar smiled. She seemed overly happy about the whole thing. It was starting to make Ilsa suspicious about her. 

Ilsa found some relief in the condition Hunt was in. She was glad he was strong, and it made her relax a small amount that he was going to be ok. Ilsa herself had been shot before and survived, but only after about two weeks in the hospital and then three weeks of an incredibly slow recovery then every week doctor’s appointments for a year afterward. Granted the damage done to her was much worse than Ethan’s cracked rib and cut face.

“Thank you so much you two for all your help. I’m glad you came so quickly,” Ilsa thanked the doctors as she dried the plate.

“It’s our job,” She nodded to Ilsa and turned to the door. Bag in her hand, she opened the door and let the assistant out.

“Oh, and Ilsa, it's good to see you again,” She winked at her before shutting the door and hurrying down the stairs.

Ilsa turned back to the kitchen and put her dishes in the sink.

"Ilsa, will you come here?" Ethan asked in a normal volume voice, but she could hear the tiredness in him.

"I'm coming," she sighed, "Do you want something to eat?" She asked, already grabbing him a glass of ice water.

"I'm fine, Ils. Please come here." The tone had turned defeated. There was a sadness in his voice that hurt her.

Ils took the glass and headed over to him.

Ethan's feet were up on the couch. He leaned his back on the armrest that was covered by his suit jacket and a black towel. The bullet wound was wrapped in white gauze, then covered in a thick layer of ace bandage wrap. The wound was protected, to say the least.

His forehead was wrapped in a similar fashion but on in white gauze. He looked like a wounded warrior in a movie who had been through hell.

Ilsa faced him on the couch and handed him the water, "Drink. It will make you feel better."

He took it slowly then drank it even slower.

He finished off the glass and handed it back to her. She then set it on the table next to the bloody bullet she planned to examine later.

Turning her attention to Hunt, she prepared herself for a long conversation.

"Ethan, honey. Can you please give me some closure as to why you left me in Kashmir all alone?" she asked, letting her hand rest on his ankle.

"Ilsa, I want to start by saying that I'm so sorry for leaving you. I never wanted to. It really hurt me more than I thought it did," Ethan spoke quietly. Ilsa nodded slowly.

"But,  _ why _ did you leave me?" She said softly.

He sighed and sat up more, straightening out his legs. Ilsa pulled her hand away.

"This is going to sound like a terrible answer, but the new boss assigned me a new mission and he put restrictions on who I could contact. You were not on the list of who I could contact."

Ilsa lowered her head into her hands. Seven months and he just couldn't talk to her. After all this time, it really was just a stupid answer.

She looked back up at him, "But, as I said earlier, why couldn't you just come to say bye? You don't listen to protocol often, why couldn't you break it this time?"

"Because if I did have contact with you, the man I was after would have put you in danger because of me, and I couldn't let that happen."

"I can defend myself, Ethan. You of all people know that." Ilsa retaliated in frustration.

"I want to be done with putting you in harm's way, Ils. And if I called you or texted you or went to find you later in London, he would have killed you."

"Ethan, you do not always have to look out for me. I can take care of myself."

"I know. And I'm sorry I never found you or even said bye. I just never wanted to run the risk of you getting hurt."

"Hon. Please don't do that to me again." She wanted to beat him up and kiss him at the same time. He was too noble sometimes. This is the biggest time in her memory.

Ilsa would never let the man hurt her just because she talked to Ethan. She'd kill him before he got the chance to even see her.

"I won't, Ilsa Faust. I'm so sorry," he said quietly to her as his steely eyes softened as they made eye contact.

"Now, I have a question," He said as his face went cold.

"Shoot," Ilsa said preparing to explain the mystery man in her apartment when he came in.

"Who is Vincent and what was your relationship with him?" Ethan asked. If Ilsa was seeing it right, he looked scared for the answer to come.

She nodded.

"His name is Vincent Strucker. He is an MI6 agent I used to work with. He was my boyfriend of 3 months."

Ethan's face didn't change. If he was still scared, she couldn't see it.

"Was?" He asked curiously.

"When I went outside with him, he broke up with me. He said that he just wanted me to be happy and to do that he said I should be with you because," she slowed down, watching him closely she decided to go forward with the explanation. “Because I still love you. And I was never in love with him, though he fell hard for me.” She finished, searching Ethan for anything.

Telling a man like him that you love him was a terrifying thing to her. She didn’t want to find herself on the receiving end of a punch or something. She also didn’t want to find herself on the receiving end of his rejection either. At that moment, she was terrified of what was going to come next. 

All she got from him was a face she couldn’t read.

“Ilsa,” he said softly sitting up, not minding the pain.

“Ethan Hunt, I never forgot you. I never fell out of love with you for two years and seven months. When I asked you to run away with me so long ago, I meant it. Now, I’m sorry for being to straight up with you but, Vince was right. I really do love you. I tried to find you before I started him seeing him. I got a hit about four months back at Heathrow airport and I spent a week looking for you, but obviously wasn’t successful. I-”

“Ilsa, honey, it's okay,” he interrupted softly, letting his hand rest on her thigh. Ethan was now about a foot away from her. Her heart was beating incredibly fast. She just wanted to kiss him. There was something about her that made her melt inside.

“Ethan,” she breathed, glancing at his lips.

“I’m glad you told me, hon. Because I love you too,” he smiled very faintly. Ilsa’s heart skipped a beat.

“R- R- Really?” She couldn’t believe it. She had always thought that it was a one-way thing. She never thought that he would reciprocate the feeling.

“Of course I do. I just finished the mission that you were on the do not call list. A while back I had Benji break into the MI6 agent database to find how you were doing,” Ethan admitted, all the while letting his thumb drift back and forth on her thigh.

“Or, to get my address,” she smiled back at him.

“Yeah, that. But, when you asked me to run away with you, I really did want to go with you, but like in Kashmir, I had a mission to finish.”

His hand moved up her thigh. Ilsa’s breath hitched.

“And you’re here because…” she asked, nudging him to spell out the reason.

“Medical attention. And, to see you. I did not plan to tell you I love you today, but am glad you know.”

Ilsa let her hand find his hip that faced her.

“I’m glad you told me,” she breathed, checking his lips again.

“So, where do we go from here?” Ethan asked softly. It was his turn to glance at her lips.

“You,” Ilsa brought the hand on his hip up to his chin saying, “Aren’t going anywhere.” she gently traced his jawline with her middle finger. “You are going to stay until you are healed. So get comfortable, honey,” she joked.

“Okay.” Ethan scooped up her legs with his arm and set them across his lap, then pulled her in closer. Ilsa wrapped her arm around the back of his neck.

“That’s one way to do that,” Ilsa laughed as her heart sped up more.

“You’re comfortable,” he smiled at her making the butterflies in her stomach dance.

“You are too, Hunt,” she whispered before Ethan closed the gap between them kissing her softly. 

Somewhere in the world, a rainbow of fireworks exploded and Ilsa and Ethan felt them.

He tasted heavenly, a mix of a dark red wine he most definitely had for dinner, and chocolate cake. A little something for dessert. Ethan’s tongue gently grazed her upper lip, making Ilsa do everything in her power not to faint. After what felt like a lifetime, Ilsa pulled away from him, catching her breath, trying to compose herself.

“God, I really love you,” she whispered softly to him making him break into a large smile.

“Come here, Ils.” He kissed her harder this time.

Ilsa let him do whatever he wanted. She would jump off a cliff to kiss him again. As he passion grew, Ethan made his way down to her neck making her die inside. She ran her hand through his soft, short hair. It was about as short as Jack Reacher. Ethan pulled her closer to him. He laid slow, soft, open mouth kisses just under her jaw making her go wild. 

“Ethan…” she droned off.

“Yeah, baby?” he whispered into her neck.

“Don’t stop, love,” she moaned softly.

Ethan smiled again and pulled her all the way on his lap.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, glad ya finished it. Thanks for reading! It means a lot! Also, there is definitely potential for a second part if you want.


End file.
